Harry Riddle
by HpFanficFan
Summary: Harry Potter wakes up on a fine July morning ready to fight another day, only to find himself in bed with the villan Voldemort! What is going on? Why can't he remember anything? And what does Kreacher have to do with all of this? SLASH. LV/HP
1. chapter 1

**Harry Riddle**

**By**

**Hpfanficfan**

**Summary**: Harry Potter wakes up on a fine July morning to face a new day, only to find himself in the bed with the villan Voldemort. What is going on?

**Rated**: M for adult language and sexual situations.

**Warnings**: Slash. TR(LV)/HP. OOC Voldemort, OOC Harry. So if you're one of those picky readers with a big problem with OOCness, don't complain. AU, so if you are also a reader who take realism seriously, don't complain.

**A/N**: My 3rd, Voldemort/Harry story. I request that you read and review this fic. Oh, and check out my drabble Snarry called 'In Love with a Bastard'.

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**Chapter 1**

It was dawn of the seventh month; the partly transparent sunlight resembled that honey golden yellow invented by the bees. Birds were singing, going about their usual business and unknowingly waking up the rest of the hemisphere with their joyful songs. Not to mention to crisp dawn fragrance, still punctuated by light moisture that lingered in the air. The atmosphere is always the clearest and most refreshing at dawn. One breathe is enough to rejuvenate the brain from its sleep addled state. All in all, it was a beautiful morning, promise of a beautiful day to come.

However, even under the beautiful sunrise with the crisp air and singing thrushes, there is one whom is not so happy. That person is none other than the magical world's boy who refused to die, Harry Potter. You cannot blame him, of course, for who else in on in this world could possibly wake up in the morning only to find themselves in the same bed as their arch nemesis? And how many of those would have the prescience to remain calm and collective to seemingly enjoy this 'wondrous' morning?

Well, sort of.

"Voldemort!" Harry shouted, as if the person with the blood-red eyes did not know his own name! "What are you doing here?" The Boy-Who-Lived pointed a very accusing finger to the opposite side of the bed, where laid not the disgusting face of You-Know-Who, but a very handsome young man that went by the name of Tom Riddle.

Riddle looked a bit older than the last time he and Harry Potter were in the same room together (but not in the same bed). It was in the Chamber of Secrets that unfortunate circumstances had pitted them against each other in an epic battle to the death. Riddle, being a sly snake and all, had cheated and used Slytherin's basilisk to do the dirty work of squashing Harry. No matter, young Harry Potter had stuck a 1000 year old sword through the roof of the serpent's mouth and killed it. Tom Riddle, (being Tom Riddle the Memory), hadn't been pleased about that.

Needless to say, Voldemort was even less pleased when he discovered that Harry Potter had destroyed his precious Horcrux.

That had been years ago, but it was not something Harry would ever forget. It was the eyes that gave Riddle away. There was no mistaking whose eyes these belonged to; these serpent-like pupils as scarlet as the most gorgeous tulip and bloodiest of blood.

"Ah, my lovely, what's wrong?" the red-eyed Riddle asked frowning.

_Oh lord! Had he heard right? What did he just call me? His lovely? What is going on? _Harry's brain could not take it; he felt dizzy and believed for a moment that this, surely, was the end of the world.

Voldemort chuckled.

"Well, if this is about last night and me not letting go of you. Will you at least allow me to compensate?" The lord of all evilness looked at Harry with a dubious smirk on his face; his red pupils eyeing his counterpart wildly like a beast born of the Forbidden Forest.

Harry follow Voldemort's possessive gaze down and across his body. Suddenly, it was as if he had been fossilized by Petrificus Totalus.

Why in the name of sin did he have no clothes on? Harry thought as he frantically pulled the covers over his naked frame. He was naked. Stark naked! In bed! With Voldemort!

_Somebody please explain to me what is going on!_

Voldemort leaned closer, not yet noticing Harry's distress.

In Harry's imagination, long, skeletal fingers gripped his wrist and black fingernails dug into his skin leaving crescent marks. In his imagination, the man across from him had not the soft features of a young Tom Riddle, but a pale, gaunt face, monstrous and terrifying. In his imagination, those pitiless scarlet silted pupils pierced him with utter fear.

Harry trembled.

Voldemort touched him.

"Stay away from me!" Harry screamed as if in physical pain. He did not realize that there was none.

Instinctively, Harry stuck out and he pushed Voldemort, with all his might, off the bed.

The Dark Lord fell to the polished wood floor in the most undignified manner, nude and with a _CLUNK._ The man rose immediately and reached out his hand again, this time; it was an attempt to calm and not one at intimacy.

"Harry…"

But Harry was panicked further; forgetting that he was clad in not but his skin, the boy jumped from the bed and fled. Poor Harry didn't even manage two steps before his legs collapsed from under him, sending him tumbling to the floor.

"Be careful," cried a voice of alarm and Harry found himself engulfed by strong arms. "Whatever is the matter with you today, lovely? Was it Snape, that bastard? Did he give you a hard time again? Or perhaps it was Malfoy?" Voldemort snarled.

Harry winced.

Despite the fact that Voldemort now looked like Tom Riddle and the fact that the man had just called him 'lovely,' Harry could not dispel the fear taking over his heart. That man, whichever name he went by, was an evil to be reckoned with. Harry had heard too many tales, dreamed too many nightmares and experienced too much to not quail at the sight of the dark wizard. There was not a decent human bone in Voldemort, in fact nowadays it was debatable whether Voldemort is actually human at all. After all, he did spend a decade as some kind ghastly spiritual parasite before 'reincarnating' himself through dark blood magic.

"No! " Harry choked. "Let me go! Let me go! " The hapless boy struggled in the surrounding arms, but they stubbornly refused to let go. Harry bit his lip, his arms trapped by his side and his legs folded under him. It was really no surprise. What was he compared to Voldemort, physically and magically? How could he, a normal human being defeat Voldemort who has been tainted once and then a hundred more times by dark magic?

To Harry, it was almost a sort of comfort. He was the Boy-Who-Lived, but at least he was not You-Know-Who.

Harry felt like crying. ``Please let me go."

Riddle shook his head. ``I will let you go when you calm down."

Harry pushed again, with his arms and legs and torso to no avail. Eventually, he went limp, exhausted from his struggles.

"Where am I?" Harry whispered.

"You need to ask? We are at Riddle Manor, of course," Riddle replied. To him, it was the most obvious answer in the world.

Harry, much to Riddle's bewilderment, was more or less horrified by the answer.

Riddle Manor? Why was he at Riddle Manor? Was he captured? By Snape? Malfoy? Lestrange? How come he had no recollection of anything? Was he Obliviated? What have they done with him? What were they going to do with him? Where were his friends? So many questions and no answers at all. Harry groaned in frustration.

Then a truly terrible thought came to the Boy-Who-Lived; could it be true then that Professor Dumbledore used his, Harry's magic, in exchange for peace and armistice? Was he the barging chip for some sort of treaty? But no, that was only a rumour; a horrible, terribly sick joke dreamed up by people whose lives revolved around conspiracy theories, scandals and defamation.

But then, how _had_ he come to be at the Dark Lord's estate?

Harry's heart raced as he tried to get his brain around the situation. Professor Dumbledore meant everything to him. Harry could not imagine such a betrayal.

_No, this cannot be, you're being an idiot, Professor Dumbledore wouldn't do such a thing. _Harry scolded himself. If there was one person he could trust in this world, then that person was Albus Dumbledore.

"W…where are my friends? Where is Hermione? Ron? Where are the others? What have you done with them?" Harry demanded bitingly, trying to sound brave though he still shivered. _Don't be such a coward! You're supposed to be Gryffindor. This isn't the first time you've faced him. _No…but this is the first time under such grim circumstances.

Seeing Harry's strange behaviour, Riddle went from being a bit…frivolous to being much more serious. And being quick to temper, he used a somewhat sneering, mocking tone to answer Harry's last question.

"What is _wrong_ with you today?"Voldemort looked upon Harry with the oddest expression of true bafflement. "Weasley and the former Granger are at their home, probably feeding the numerous little beasts they claim to be children." The dark wizard shook his head, trying to dispel the memory of miniature redheads gallivanting about his manor, wrecking havoc wherever they tread. He only did it for Harry. It was only because of his husband that he let those creatures anywhere near his beloved home. Full grown Weasleys were one thing, but those children, Merlin, he swear the devil's had a hand in their upraising. Or that the Malfoy and Wealsey twin gene got trapped in there somehow. Little monsters.

"And what is your meaning of 'others'? Who 'others'? There are quite a few 'others'. You cannot possibly expect me to tell you they're going ons when you know more about them then I ever would bother to."

Voldemort looked at Harry expecting an answer.

But Harry's mind was no longer focused on Voldemort.

Their home? Married? Children? As more than one?

How could that be? Weren't they still at school?

Puzzlement filled his eyes and Harry was desperate for answers, even if that meant asking Voldemort himself.

"Um. May I see them then?" Harry asked with some hesitation, preparing himself for rejection or another jeering answer.

"Why not? Did you not invite them here today?"

Well, that certainly was unexpected. All the stranger, when Harry accidently saw those red eyes again, he could tell that Voldemort was not deceiving him.

"Why?" Harry muttered. The Gryffindor could not understand why Voldemort had so willingly and casually granted his wish to see his friends. Maybe the bastard had a plan to trick Harry into a false sense of security and strike him when he least expected it. Or maybe he wanted to use Harry's friends to gain his submission and compliance? But he was already prisoner. Voldemort had Harry in the palm of his hand, there was no point in doing any of that.

Just what the devil is he up to? Harry attempted to understand.

"You are very strange today, Harry," said Voldemort shaking his head. The dark wizard then raised an eyebrow and the corners of his mouth twitched upwards in to a sinister smile. It dawned on him...

"Ah, I see," he began to say. The dark lord seemed overjoyed much to Harry's vexation and when he let out a great sound of laughter Harry stared.

This was not the Voldemort he knew and the sound he made was not that haunting laughter Harry had heard in the graveyard or Department of Mysterious. In fact, this laughter differed even from the one in the Chamber of Secrets. This laugh was human, filled with amusement and happiness.

"This is your newest attempt to give our daily lives a little added _stimulus, _isn't it?" Voldemort finished.

"Aren't we supposed to be archenemies? Bitter foes? Nemesis?" Harry blurted out spitefully without thinking, causing the laughing Voldemort to suddenly still. He stared at Harry.

"Don't you think you are taking your jokes a bit too far?" said Voldemort aggressively, finally sobering up. "The war ended long ago. How can you call me your enemy?"

"Over? Over? When was it over?" Harry demanded from the red-eyed youth. Perhaps it is because Tom Riddle did not have Voldemort's 'fear at first glance' appearance. For Harry discovered that he did not fear the dark wizard as much as he always thought he did.

"It is over, it ended a long time ago," said Voldemort critically. Clearly irritated, he finally got onto his feet and left Harry on the floor (which was completely fine with Harry). "Your jokes are no longer clever or humours. In fact, the sooner you get back to normal the better."

So now Harry could be sure that this is indeed Voldemort and not some replacement. Worthy of this reputation, the Dark Lord is indeed a temperamental man. It takes awfully little to vex him and Harry didn't even know what he had said wrong. He hadn't been joking at all, the last time he checked, the war was in full force.

"Why do you need to bring up such things? We agreed to put that past behind us. Do you still care about it? Why do you want to bicker about such things? Not many people had died and when it was over there was peace. There is still peace, isn't there?" Voldemort continued his rant as his fingers curled into a fist. "Humph. The great almighty Dumbledore and his courageous and self-sacrificing Gryffindor golden boy triumphed over the evil Dark Lord and saved the world from his dark magic. Isn't that so?"

That bitter sarcasm and truly hateful tone made Harry want to reach out and punch the man in the face. But that might not be the cleverest thing to do. Of course, Harry had done plenty of stupid things before when he acted without thinking. Who said he had not learned from them? Taking into account the possible ramification of punching Voldemort, the usually reckless Gryffindor decided it was best if he stayed his hand.

This time.

Truth to be told, Harry did not believe he could win a face to face, one on one battle with Voldemort in all his glory.

Yet.

"What about the prophecy?" Harry got onto his feet and blurted out yet again. The hasty Gryffindor realized his mistake too late. Because at the time he and his friends encountered the Death Eaters in the Department of Magic, they had failed to retrieve the prophecy. The orb containing it had smashed and broke and now the only record of it lay in memory—his memory to be exact.

Harry gulped and took a step backwards. He so wish he had learned Occlumency when he had the chance, that way, at least he'd be able to give Voldemort a fun for his money instead of sitting here like a sitting duck.

"Of course. _The Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives__._ Correct?" Voldemort repeated casually.

Hearing his enemy repeat Sybil Trelawney's prophesy, Harry's eyes widened almost comically. The prophecy. But…Voldemort…he couldn't possibly. No.

"How…how did you find out?" Harry stuttered, aware that his expression must really look stupid right now. But that was beside the point.

"Why, your great Dumbledore told me, of course," Voldemort answered in a as matter of fact sort of way. "In order to solve our problem completely, the leader of the Light had to remain forward-looking."

Despite the fact that Voldemort's cutting tone could be called vicious, Harry could clearly detect a bitterness that much resembled jealousy. The Gryffindor hero, having spend plenty of time with his 'best friend' Ronald Weasley, knew all too well what jealousy sound, looked, tasted and indeed smelled like. Voldemort was definitely, one hundred percent, jealousy.

Wait…jealousy? Jealousy at whom? Not Dumbledore; didn't seem like Dumbledore.

No, he must have gotten the wrong impression. Harry thought to himself. You and your instincts, as Snape would put it; what utterly preposterous thinking, Potter. Twenty points from Gryffindor for your lack of common sense, absurdity, and pathetically wayward train of thought.

"But that prophecy ... " Harry would like to say something, but was abruptly halted by Voldemort.

"That prophecy has already been resolved, Harry Potter no longer exists in this world," Voldemort spoke triumphantly in a very satisfied tone. By the way that the dark wizard held his head, it could be said that he was very proud and indeed, very happy about the current state of affairs.

Harry was stunned and began to suspect that it is due to the overuse of black magic and Voldemort's head had broken. In other words, the madman had truly and finally gone off the deep end.

Harry Potter no longer existed in this world? What did that mean? He was standing right here. Wasn't he?

He knew he was Harry Potter and Harry Potter felt very much alive. He couldn't be dead. Could he?

The dark wizard continued to smile. "The only person that exists now is you, my husband, Harry Riddle," Tom Riddle's voice sounded elegant and aristocratic. Harry, of course, was too beside himself to notice much less care.

The Boy-Who-Lived didn't know if his heart stopped, beat faster or stopped from beating faster or beat faster because it stopped for few seconds. The poor guy completely collapsed, he would rather believe that this was a dream; a very, very horrible nightmare.

TBC....

A/N: there you go. First Chapter. Did you like it? Please review and you get a hug from Voldemort! Now _that_ is rare. You can brag to all your friends.....


	2. Chapter 2

**Harry Riddle**

**By**

**Hpfanficfan**

**Chapter 2**

Meanwhile, in Spinner's End a man stood out in complete contrast to the dirty old brick houses that lay into a row ahead of him. The fair-haired and handsome fellow moved forward in strides, heading towards his destination without the slightest pause or hesitation. Soon, he came to the last house in the alley and beat heavily upon the door.

However, his hurried knocks went unanswered. The young man waited about two to three minutes before he started to shout. "Severus! If you don't open this door I will blast it open myself! Will you let me in already!"

Draco kicked the door and opened his mouth to shout again, but suddenly, the door opened with a bang. And there at the doorway, looking very vexed and very irritated, was Severus Snape. The pale completion of his sallow face gave him a malnourished and sicken look. His greasy black hair fell onto his shoulders, his dark black robes floated just above his ankles and his onyx black eyes reached the silver ones of the blonde youth.

"What do you want?" Snape asked icily, his brows creased and his arms folded together in a way that reminded Draco of the old days in Hogwarts.

"Good morning, Severus. Are you really going to leave me out here?" The blonde smiled brightly up at his godfather.

"I am not in the mood to entertain..." Snape declared in a low voice, not at all amused. "...on this very rare and short holiday in which I would rather spend alone. In private," he added. Indeed, there was very little that amused Severus other than potions, potion ingredients and books about potion masters making potions.

The blonde youth started with a kind of tired and lazy tone, as if deliberately prolonging the syllables of each word and spoke sarcastically. "Severus, you aren't really mad at me are you? After all we've been through? I rather though we were pretty close, you and I."

"Draco, are you deliberately trying to provoke me? I do not recall our relationship being so that I permit you to come uninvited to my home at the break of dawn, banging on my door like an undisciplined child and threatening to break it down," Snape said seriously, not cracking the slightest smile.

"Um...sorry, I did not mean to invade your privacy, Severus. But I need your help on an urgent matter," Draco said quickly, not wanting to anger Snape, which would him no good.

Snape stood looking at Draco for awhile.

"Very well," he finally relented and stepped slightly sideways, so that Draco walked through the archway and into the room.

The door closed shut behind them.

"What sort of folly have you gotten yourself into this time, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Mr. Malfoy? Geez, Severus. Don't call me that, you make it sound like as if we're still at Hogwarts."

Snape snorted.

The two wizards came to Snape's dark and gloomy drawing room, where upon Snape sat on the couch without inviting Draco to do the same. "Answer the question, Draco. Don't tell me you are foolish enough to have gone and provoked Potter again," he asked, the only emotion on his stoic face was that of irritation.

Draco, who didn't really notice Snape's rotten mood, took it upon himself to find a seat.

"Folly? Potter? Oh no, Severus. My hands are clean. I declare myself completely innocent of any wrongdoing. This was not my fault."

Snape's face was set a cold expression as he leaned forward slightly, streaks of black hair banked his face on both sides.

"Innocent or not," he said coldly. "I do not believe you would escape the Dark Lord's wrath. Moreover, it seems to me that you are hiding an even greater misdeed."

"You are going to help me right?" Draco asked, looking pleadingly at his godfather. "I already told you that it was not my fault. It's all because of that stupid house elf!" The blonde raked his own hair fretfully, sending his silver streaks of fine hair into some disarray.

Snape listened to Draco with his fingers slightly locked together, hovering in midair while his elbows rested on the arms of the couch. When Draco finished he shook his head and spoke monotonously yet sounding ever the more sarcastic. "Even our lord has used that one before; house elves do make excellent scapegoats. However, using this common excuse to conceal the truth is not your style."

"Damn! If you will not believe me then who will?" Draco cried exasperatedly and threw his arms up. "Why don't I just go and turn myself in and have our lord kill me? Maybe he will have mercy and grant me a quick and painless death?"

"Well then, speak. What is your excuse?" Snape looked inquiringly at Draco.

Draco sighed and leaned back into his seat.

"It is all because of that abominable house-elf, Kreacher," Draco's mouth twitched. "I don't know why that thing hates Harry so much and really I don't give a rat's arse. But that scar-head has got to be the most gullible idiot I have ever known! It's not like he doesn't know how much Kreacher despises him, and he just accepts the tea without the slightest hesitation! I have no clue what is going on in that brain of his. Oh yea, he has no brain!"

The blonde shook his head.

"Nobody ordered the elf to pour him tea? Did he really think that hateful creature just did it out of good will? He gave the thing to me for Merlin's sake!"

"I think you had better start at the beginning," Snape said frostily, wearing a frown of confusion. "And do get to the point." He really had no patience to hear the youth grumble and complain.

"Fine, fine," Draco replied. "Harry came over to my place for a visit yesterday. Says he had a surprise for me and wanted me to go to Riddle Manor the next day. Actually I was not at home when he came, had a planned engagement at this convention you see. Anyway, you can imagine my shock when I came home to find Potter at my front door. I mean, he hasn't visited me in what, ten years? I really thought that he had gotten tired of the Dark Lord, decided to release himself of the burden and you know had come to see me..." Draco shrugged.

"I mean sure we were already way past...that, but that didn't mean that I would turn down his...uh invitation."

As Draco reminiscent on the good old days, a silly smile made him look like the love-struck teenager.

And Snape, as witness to Draco's foolish grin, raised an eyebrow and out a very un-Snape like bellow of laughter.

"I do not believe you have yet escaped Potter's love spell. Every time I see you two together I am reminded that you were once infatuated with him. Of course that infatuation has yet to diminish, has it Draco?"

"Am I really that obvious?" Draco rubbed his face with his hands. He didn't want the Lord to get the wrong idea, consider him competition and hex him off the face of the earth.

"Indeed," Snape answered curtly.

"Well...fine. I'll have to be more careful. I treasure my life very much and have no desire to be tortured to death by a jealous lord," said Draco. "Anyway, back to my point. Harry didn't come to see me for release, of course."

Snape gave a snort which Draco stoically ignored.

"Said he needed me to go to Riddle Manor for a big surprise. I said yes, obviously and then he left. But it wasn't until after that Kreacher came up to me and said the oddest thing; that he'd helped his master get rid of his enemy._ 'Kreacher gave that bad blood traitor Potter bad tea, Master Malfoy, sir, _it said..." Draco repeated. "_Harry Master no need to be sad about the bad Harry Potter anymore." _

"Turns out that demented elf laced Harry's tea with my brew, which still needed another ten hours stew before it was ready. And Harry, being the stupid arse that he is, drank it all!" Draco finished bitterly. If it got out that Harry was hurt or died under his roof, a hysterical Dark Lord may tear the entire world into little bits and pieces and fling them into the sun.

"If you don't believe me, feel free to use Veritaserum, I'll open myself to any method you can think of. As long as you can see that I speak the truth." Draco said miserably. He really really hated that Harry Potter right now, for giving him a murderous house-elf.

After a long silence, Snape finally spoke up; "What was the potion you were brewing?"

"The Age Shrinking Syrup," Draco laughed dryly. He never thought that this unfinished potion could be the cause of such catastrophe.

Snape sat back into his seat, his fingers from one hand still entwined with the other. The deep frown etched on his face was a sign that he was thinking hard.

"This is not good. Very well, we shall go to Malfoy Manor. Perhaps the potion achieved nothing harmful, or if we are lucky, anything at all."

The potions master placed one hand to his temple. Potter has once again managed to give him a splitting headache.

Some things never change.

TBC...


	3. Chapter 3

No, Harry Riddle is not a masterpiece. And it's probably got glaring plotholes, incorrect grammar and irritating OOCness. But as I get into the story, I am starting to discover the characters and the style and feel this story should have.

This story is completely AU

Please visit my profile for a new poll and check out my other fics.

**Harry Riddle**

**By**

**Hpfanficfan**

**Chapter 3**

Harry was afraid to open his eyes.

_This can't be real. I am dreaming, I am definitely dreaming. I've had loads of strange dreams before; terrible nightmares. This is just one of them._ The Gryffindor denied silently in desperation as he lay on the bed with his head buried into a pillow.

"Perhaps you were dreaming," said Riddle who is still confused by his husband's strange behaviour. After his lover's unexpected fainting spell, he had picked Harry up and placed him on the bed. He was just about to call a healer when he heard he man mumble about dreams.

_Damn! Did I say that out loud?_ Harry groaned.

At that moment, a tapping sound came from the bedroom door. Riddle lifted the comforter and pulled it over Harry's body.

"Enter," he permitted.

The sudden noise of knocking must have snapped Harry out of his musing. He flushed a terrible red when he realized that he was still naked and hurriedly pulled the covers tighter around him. Even as he hid himself beneath the fabrics, Harry refused to feel gratitude to Voldemort for covering him up. After all, if it were not for Voldemort he would not be in this situation right now.

"Bellatrix, you had better have a good reason to disturb us so early in the morning," said Riddle lazily as he lay down next to Harry.

"My lord, Mr and Mrs Wealsey have arrived and are waiting in the drawing room," Bellatrix answered as respectfully as she could muster. Her eyes, however, gave her intent away. Harry was not to be outdone, he glared straight back at Bellatrix, meeting her vicious glare head on, accepting the challenge.

Bellatrix's mouth twisted into a sneer and she muttered in clear repulsion. "My lord. If I may; there is no need for you to receive those low lives."

"Shut up! Don't talk about my friends that way!" Harry shouted angrily. If it were not for the dark and powerful wizard beside him, the Gryffindor would have given Bellatrix a piece of his mind. He didn't think he'd have enough restraint not to hex her silly. In fact, Harry was greatly tempted to attempt another Unforgivable and give that bitch who murdered his godfather what she deserved!

"Hush, my lovely," Riddle pulled Harry towards him, as if trying to protect the younger wizard from Bellatrix's barbs. Harry thought he'd be revolted by the touch of Voldemort, but his mind and body seemed to disagree. As soon as Riddle's arm came around his shoulders, Harry's body went limp as if it knew, even if his mind didn't, that everything was alright.

"Bellatrix! That is enough," Riddle scolded.

"My lord, please be reasonable. Just because they are Potter's pals doesn't mean you, his liege, have to put up with them!" Bellatrix whined unhappily.

"Oh no, Bella, see that's where you are mistaken. There is nothing wrong with my actions." Tom Riddle shook a finger at the woman. His thin lips were curved upwards in what could be called a smile, but his blood-red eyes had not slightest presence of pleasure that can be called. "Do not question me, ever, understand?"

"I am sorry, my lord. I do not mean to question you at all." Bellatrix lowered her head and bowed deeply in submission. Riddle snorted at the witch's hidden bitter tone, bet let it slid.

"Leave, Bellatrix. Go and entertain Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. After all, they are Harry's most honoured guests."

"Yes, my lord," Bellatrix obeyed and retreated in a hurry, with the full knowledge that she'd been lucky to have escaped punishment for her impudence. It did not mean she had to be happy about it though.

The bedroom door closed once more and Riddle's eyes relaxed instantly. Red eyes turned their focus back onto Harry. "Shall we you dressed, my lovely? I'm not certain your guests would appreciate your lovely body nearly as much as I do. "

The Boy-Who-Lived flinched and struggled out of Riddle's grip and taking the comforter with him, ran to the far side of the room. _Merlin knows what that pervert is thinking of right_ _now!_ He thought.

"Where are my clothes?" Harry demanded, glaring at Riddle. "Give me back my wand." Even if he probably won't stand a chance against the dark wizard in a duel, Harry would feel much more secure if he had his wand.

"Over there," the red-eyed man pointed to the floor.

Harry's face blushed a deeper red when he spotted a pile of tangled clothes on the floor. Tom Riddle noticed that his ears were also red also, but said nothing.

The Gryffindor ran forward to snatch up his wand from the heap of giant mess. He frowned at the clothes, how was he supposed to untangle those, much less where them? Some of those looked torn even!

"Sorry, that was my bad," Riddle smiled like a scoundrel, "But I do believe that what you have there is my wand."

Harry looked down to discover that the wand he held was indeed not 11 inch, brown and made of holly, but a much longer one of bone white colour.

Harry gasped and threw the thing away as if it were a live viper.

"There's no reason to take that attitude," Riddle said feeling annoyed as he bent down to pick up the discarded wand. "You know very well that my wand works just as well as yours." Harry did not know, or rather, he had forgotten the convenience of being Tom Riddle's husband. They shared many things you see; a bed is one obvious and unsurprising example. But wands, they were a different story. Sharing wands was a very are thing, even if they had the same Phoenix feather core.

"I don't want _your _wand, I want mine!" Harry shouted, "Where is _my _wand?"

"Very well, be that way then," Riddle shook his head helplessly and muttered a couple of incantations. The jumble of clothes twitched before a dark walnut coloured rod emerged from within and slowly floated itself to Harry.

The Gryffindor snatched the wand from midair as if it were a golden snitch. As soon as his fingers felt its wood, Harry could tell that this wand really was his.

"I think a thank you is in order," Riddle muttered looking at Harry expectantly.

Harry narrowed his eyes at Riddle, casting him an unfavourable and defiant glare. But after a minute he grumbled a thanks.

"There's a good boy," Riddle pampered.

Harry seethed and clutched his wand tightly in his fingers. How dare…

Until now, Harry had not realized one awfully disturbing fact - Voldemort may look young on the outside, but he must be old enough to be Harry's great grandfather! _Dirty, obscene old snake, _Harry cursed under his breath.

Riddle, apparently having not heard, untangled the clothes with a spell and left them in a neat stack. "Hurry up will you, our guests must be getting worried," he urged as another set of clothes appeared on the bed.

Harry gaped at the garments. There was no way he was putting on those disgusting…rags! Who in their right mind would wear such…such dirty clothing? "I am not wearing those!"

"Why ever not? Aren't these what you wanted?" Riddle said sourly, and Harry thought that maybe his _dirty old snake _curse had not gone unheard.

"Where them yourself, you bastard!" Harry shouted, he picked up the _rags _on the bed and threw them in Voldemort's face.

"Fine, if you do not like them, then put on something else," Riddle muttered as he calmly removed the clothes from his head. "Of course, you must at least try them on when it is just the two of us. You might change your mind about their usefulness."

The devious, crooked smile made Harry turn another level of red. The young man's lips moved about as he tried to think of something to say.

Riddle laughted at Harry's expression and shook his head. "Alright, we'd better get down there." With a simple flick of his wand, a handsome set of expensive looking robes adorned Harry's body.

The younger wizard bowed his head to look at his attire. _Well, at least these look normal. _He thought and grunted a yes.

Tom Riddle reached to take Harry's hand. The green eyed hero jumped in surprise and wanted to pull away. But somehow he found that he couldn't; not that he didn't want to, he just...couldn't.

"Let go of me. I can walk by myself," Harry's mouth objected; his body and mind in conflict once again.

"Oh, but I don't want my lovely to get lost. It is a very large manor," Riddle said with elation and he led Harry out of the bedroom. Harry followed grumpily. After many twists and turns, and a stairwell or two, the pair finally arrived at the drawing room.

"Go on then," said Riddle, waving towards the swinging doors and standing back.

"You're not going in?"

"No, of course, not. They are your friends after all, and not mine."

Point. Harry didn't think Ron, Hermione, himself and Voldemort could be in the same room together without ending up throwing painful curses back and forth. In a way, Harry was grateful that Voldemort had volunteered to let him be alone with his friends. On the other hand, this _was _Voldemort- the darkest wizard in the land - and it would be no surprise if this all turned out to be some terrible trap.

"Well my lovely, have fun," said Tom Riddle. He suddenly leaned down and gave Harry a kiss on the lips before twisting around and floating magnificently down the hall. Harry was stunned, fossilized a second time that morning, but not for the reasons you'd think. Harry wasn't shocked by Tom Riddle's kiss, he was taken aback by the sweetness the kiss processed, the gentle yet firm lips and the dizzying feeling it left him with.

"Wait!" Harry shouted to the retreating back of Voldemort.

The young Gryffindor hadn't the time to think. This was probably the reason Snape always called him a reckless, irresponsible halfwit; for the fact that he never thought before he jumped into action. In his defence, when trouble found Harry, he usually did not have the time to think and then act. For example, the current situation required time for deep thought and some strategic planning, but Harry needed to act quickly. Thinking on your feet hard stuff and when you did things like that, you just had to deal with the risks.

"Don't go. Come in with me," Harry exclaim, the words rolling off his tongue naturally. Having to grow up with devious relatives, Harry had learned at an early age the art of deception and lying. His later adventures at Hogwarts helped, of course. "I'm sure my friends won't mind."

If one asked the idiot why he wanted to be in Voldemort's presence for any more time than it was required, Harry would have answered this; when you had someone as evil as Voldemort, it is best to keep him in your line of sight. Never lose sight of your enemy. Never turn your back on them! Constant vigilance! Yes, as strange as it was, Harry actually felt safer if he could see the criminal Dark Lord.

Riddle stopped and turned around. "One minute you are yelling at me to leave you alone, and the next you are inviting me to sit with your friends?" He inquired with a raised eyebrow, not that he wasn't pleased about Harry's invitation, of course.

"I will say it again. You are very odd today. By and large, you are only too eager to throw me out when it comes to your most cherished circle of friends. Do they not constantly state that they do not want to see this 'old snake-face' who has caused them so much grief and suffering? So, as a rule, I am never allowed in the room when your friends are visiting. Even though I have changed into quite the handsome and easy-going fellow, you have never changed your verdict on this matter. "

Riddle walked towards Harry and stopped only inches away – too close for comfort for Harry, who took a step back. Not surprisingly, Tom Riddle towered over Harry who never did recover from the neglect of his childhood.

"Should I be so lucky today? I have always wanted to get to know your friends," Riddle finished, speaking half truths.

"Um...yeah. But do try not to intimidate them," said Harry tensely. He looked up, again expecting to see the monstrous face of Voldemort, but the smiling Tom Riddle looked young and handsome. The snake-like appearance, however, was still present.

Riddle smiled, maybe this wasn't to be such an awful day after all. Happily, he reached over and pushed the door, holding it open for Harry. The nervous Gryffindor walked through the door, anxious to see his old friends.

"Ron! Hermio…nie"

Harry stopped.

He gaped dumbfounded at the two people in the room.

There were his two best friends Ron and Hermione, only they were not Ron and Hermione….we they?

If they were, they had changed; they were no longer teenagers, but...adults.

Ron was definitely taller, though he still had that gangly and freckled look. He was a man in his thirties, not one that had just come of age. And Hermione, she was different too. She looked like she'd gained a bit of weight. Her hair was no longer that bushy mess, but cut short and neat. Both of their faces had matured so much. They looked so...well, old! Both held themselves in postures Harry would recognize in Mr. and or Remus, or even Snape! They were so calm, composed and patient, nothing like the Ron and Hermione he knew.

What was going on?

What was he missing?

With all this in front of him, Harry had little choice but come to a cautious yet inevitable conclusion – maybe time had moved on and he had not.

There were three things that had not changed though: Ron's flaming red hair, Hermione's radiant smile and the fact that they were still best friends – he hoped.

"Good morning, Harry. Had a bit of late start, did you?" Ron asked and smirked.

"Harry. How are you? I hope we didn't disturb you this morning," said Hermione, standing up next to her husband.

The couple were so pleased to see Harry that they did not notice the fourth person in the room.

"Um…I…I'm okay I think. Yeah…I mean no, no it's okay, you didn't disturb me," Harry stuttered and quickly changed the subject. "You look good when you smile, Hermione," he said sincerely.

"Oh, Harry. You are always so sweet. It makes me wish I'd married you instead," said Hermione, throwing Ron a sideways feign glare.

"Ah, I wouldn't mind. Although, I believe that _someone _would be most displeased." Ron said casually still not noticing Voldemort, which was rather insulting if you asked the Dark Lord. Had this been before the peace agreement, Voldemort would have made himself very noticed with a dreadful Cruciatus Curse. Of course, back then, he did not need any stupid Unforgivable to make himself noticeable. He was just simply, astoundingly and forbiddingly noticeable. Ah, those were the days.

"I'm only kidding," said Harry. "I mean, I think I prefer Ginny, anyway. How is she by the way?"

"Very good, I suppose. She's always hanging out with a bunch of guys, going to parties and out all night!"said Ron shaking his head, and clearly embarrassed by his sister.

"She is not a little girl anymore, . Ms. Weasley can handle herself fine," a voiced said.

"That's right Ron," Hermione agreed. "I think you are too strict with her sometimes."

Abruptly, there was a change in the atmosphere as the two guests realized that something was off.

Ron stretched out a trembling finger and pointed at Riddle. "Riddle, why are you here?" The redhead didn't quite believe his eyes and looked to clearly frightened of the Dark Lord. Hermione also looked very uneasy, but more astonished than anything else.

"Blame Potter, he is the one who insisted that I join in your little party," said Riddle casually, seemingly unaware of the two guests' discomfort, or he just didn't care. "Why don't we all sit down and have a nice…chat?"

"Harry?" Hermione looked over to her friend.

"Um…right. I did let him come." Harry nodded as he moved away from Riddle and sat down, gesturing his 'guests' to do the same.

"What! Are you crazy! Why would you do that?" Ron cried out being the Ron everyone knew and loved. "You're not feeling ill are you?"

Harry looked away from the others and rubbed his eyes and face. "I think…I think that I am sick."

"What? You never told me you were feeling unwell." Truth to be told, Riddle had been more than curious about Harry's odd behaviour, he'd been thinking of getting a healer all along. He just didn't want to upset Harry by telling him. Harry hated healers and hospitals – the poor guy has had enough visits to the dreary hospital rooms to last a lifetime.

"What is the matter?" Riddle continued with concern, hurrying to Harry's side.

Harry grimaced, not taking his hand off his face. "Actually, I _feel _fine_. _It's just that…"

"What! Out with it already!" Riddle demanded."Shall I call a healer?"

"I…I'm not sure…" Harry frowned. "But I…seemed to be missing some memories."

"What do you mean by that?" Hermione asked.

Harry looked up. "I don't…well, I don't remember anything!" he blurted out suddenly very agitated. "I don't remember how I got here, I don't remember you guys getting married, and I don't know how _he _hasn't attempted to kill me yet! In short, I think I've forgotten everything that's happened in the past few years!"

There was a pregnant silence in the room while Harry's revelation slowly sunk in.

TBC…

Please leave a comment. Thank you.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Harry Riddle is AU and will be a short novella, I am aiming for 10 chapters minimum.

Tangent: I'm watching Ratatouille. This film is SO overrated. I mean, pixar movies get a lot of hype and they are very good and I do like Ratatouille. It is still overrated. My fav pixar film is Finding Nemo. Back to business....

Thank you for reviewing, guys! Here is another 8 pages of Harry Riddle

Readers: send in a random phrase, any phrase like "Elementary, my dear Watson" or 'close to godliness' or 'Ratatouille'. I will pick 1, maybe 2 and insert them somewhere into the next chapter – if I can. If I can't, I'll see about getting them into the rest of the story. Go easy on me.

Check poll on profile!

**Harry Riddle**

**By**

**Hpfanficfan**

**Chapter 4:**

Harry Potter (Riddle) was frustrated, mystified and downright annoyed with fate. At times like this, the green-eyed hero felt like he was living in a fantasy world where strange things were _made_ to happen to him again and again. Being raised Muggle for eleven years, Harry has always had the Muggle perspective on many things and even now, magic frequently seemed surreal. Things like this just did not happen. Flying brooms, teleportation, time-travel and triple-decker buses; these were fixation of storybooks and theatre, not real life.

But here he was stuck in the most bizarre situation to date – sitting together and conversing with his deadly nemesis, the one and only Dark Lord Voldemort, who had apparently physically de-aged to his former Tom Riddle self. Did that make any sense?

Magic by nature is ambiguous business, and like quantum mechanics, nobody knew the true potential or laws of magic. Harry, like most Muggle-raised and Muggleborns had to learn to accept magic as it was, without asking unnecessary questions.

Even though amnesia could be a very Muggle phenomenon, Harry was sure that magic had something to do with his memory loss. He just had to figure out what kind of magic was at fault and how to repair its damage.

Finally, someone broke the prolonged silence.

"WHAT!" Riddle bolted up from the couch, making everyone in the room jump. "Say that again!"

"_I said _I don't remember anything!"

"What do you mean by 'you don't remember anything?'?"

"I meant what I said! I don't remember the war being over, I don't remember going any weddings, and I don't remember how I got _here!_"

"Why didn't you say anything before?" Riddle demanded.

"I don't know! I thought maybe you'd kidnapped and Obliviated me or something. Stop shouting."

"Kidnapped? Obliviated? You think I'd...Egh! $%!#," Riddle cursed through his clenched teeth. He'd never do such a thing, or anything that might be considered harmful to his husband. Harry knows that...or knew that, at least. "I knew there was something amiss about you today. You lost your memories? How does one just lose their memory overnight?"

"You're asking me?"

"Well, you are the one with all the problems!"

"I do not have 'problems'."

"Say that again?" Riddle said sardonically, raising both his eyebrows.

"I said I _do not have..._"

"I think we should consult Dumbledore," Hermione interrupted, breaking up the uh...quarrel. Creepy as it was, seeing the couple quarrel brought the witch some comfort. It was a sign that the old Harry was still there. Somewhere in Harry's subconscious mind, he knew who he was and unawares, he was acting very much like the husband of Voldemort. The couple rarely bickered, but when they did, it was just like this.

"I could do some research...or maybe we should take you to St. Mungos and see the professionals?"the witch continued.

"Dumbledore? You wish to consult the, oh so brilliant Dumbledore?" Riddle scorned, his lips contorted into a sneering arc. "My dear Mrs. Weasley, have you forgotten that Dumbledore is currently hula dancing with the indigenous people an ocean and a continent away? How do you expect him to know about such things anyhow? He is no professional."

Hermione glared at Riddle as much as she dared. Her respect for the former headmaster of Hogwarts had achieved a level of reverence in the recent years. Who was Tom Riddle to ridicule Albus Dumbledore, who is a greater wizard than _he _will ever be?

"Well then, maybe we should ask my dad, he might know something about this," said Ron cautiously, watching his wife's reaction and hoping she didn't misunderstand and accuse him of not taking her side. Ron had no wish to anger Hermione – Merlin knows how she turned out to be just like his mother; feisty and sometimes scary, brilliant but scary.

"Or, I could always ask Bill, he might understand a bit," Ron continued. The redhead was clearly a family man and he trusted them to solve many of his problems, or at least give some good advice. He even asked Fred and George sometimes, who were still the pranksters of the family but had matured a lot. "Or even Fred and George..."

Riddle rolled his eyes, still in a sour mood and derived sardonically. "I do not believe your family will be of any assistance at all. We'd be better off with Dumbledore in that case."

"Oh shut up! Don't insult Dumbledore or my friends," Harry turned on red-eyed man and started heatedly. "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all, Tom Riddle!"

"I am only speaking the truth. Look..." But seeing as Harry looked ready to murder, Riddle grudgingly went silent. Really, he did not understand himself; why does he ever put up with that impossible, unreasonable, completely prejudice Gryffindor?

"Sorry about that," said Harry automatically. "He has no manners."

Hermione cocked her head slightly to one side. "You know, Harry. If it wasn't for the fact that I believe you, I'd have said that there was no different between the 'now' you and the 'before' you."

"What do you mean?" Harry blinked.

"Well, you're still pretty much Harry. Even though you've lost some memories, you haven't entirely reverted back to your 'old' self. You still act like the Harry we know after the war."

"Yes, especially with that; '_He has no manners.' _line_. 'He has no manners', _that is just like you." Ron muttered, purposefully eyeing the discontent Voldemort. Ron's entire face was growing a shade of red from holding back laugher.

"Really?" said Harry.

It only just dawned on him what his words were. Why in Merlin did he say something like that to Voldemort? He sounded old, like an adult chastising a child...or spouse in this case, apparently. Harry didn't even think about the words before he said them, they just came out. Like it was out of habit, like he was meant to say it. He actually told Voldemort off – not cursing or swearing at him, but telling him off! Did he really _scold_ Voldemort? Harry groaned waiting for the other shoe to fall, positive that the dark wizard would hex him now.

Meanwhile, Tom Riddle was all ready to give the unsuspecting Ron Weasley his deadliest Voldemort glare, the evilness that topped all evilness, his red eye of doom that would send the sorry redhead crumbling into a pit of demise!!!

"I think we should stay focused on Harry's problem," said Hermione quickly, seeing the flash in Riddle's eyes. "Do you remember what you did yesterday, Harry?"

"Yea. Um..I went to class like usual, with the last three hours being double potions," Harry grimaced, his shoulders slumped. "Egh, I think I've invented a new kind of passionate hate for Snape and his god-forsaken potion lessons! Anyway, just like every day we went to supper and after that I spent the whole night trying to finish the Charms homework that was due first period the next day. I think the only thing that kept me awake was Ron and Neville's snores."

"Gosh, Harry. That's not what happened at all!" Hermione shook her head back and forth and rubbed her forehead. She tugged on her hair, a habit she'd developed when she was frustrated.

"Well, what then! What now?" Harry said equally, probably more frustrated. He really wanted to know what the heck was going on; mostly being what kind of blackmail, curse or potion made him _marry_ Voldemort!

"So, Harry. In other words, all you recall is being a student at Hogwarts right?"

Harry nodded. He was definitely a student. In fact, he had a ways to go before he could leave Hogwarts and become an Auror, but not before touring Europe as seeker for the national Quidditch team. Really, he only had a few years before he got too old to be zigzagging 50-60 metres in the air, going after the tiny Golden Snitch at the breakneck speed of 60 kilometres an hour. Not to mention those iron Bludgers that you need to look out for.

"Then you don't remember anything about Dumbledore's death and your subsequent departure?" asked Hermione.

"What! Dumbledore died?" Harry cried out in alarm. He didn't believe it. Dumbledore was dead? How could that be? How did he die? When? Who...

"No, no...I mean to say, we believed that he was dead, at the time," Hermione hurried to explain. But she looked even more upset now and looked intensely at her friend. "You really don't recall any of it?"

Harry shook his head.

"Well, what is he to you?" the witch asked bluntly, pointing rudely towards Riddle who had yet had the chance to sent Ron the death glare.

Ron turned towards Hermione in alarm, and then turned to look at Harry before his eyes fell onto Voldemort.

"Mr. Weasley. I advise you mind your wife, or else..." Riddle's faced noticeably twitched as he threatened. Only this also earned him a warning glare from Harry.

Ron gulped and wrapped one hand around Hermione's, bringing the pointing finger to his lap. Hermione thinned her lips and did not object.

"The enemy, of course. He is my enemy," Harry answered.

Hearing Harry's clear cut answer, Hermione took a deep breath, as if the answer troubled her. Ron could only gape at the fourth person in the room, who those words would affect the most. And indeed, Riddle's face was painfully contorted, showing wrath and fury.

"What? He is," Harry muttered.

"Um...well. It's just that, you were a bit hasty in you answer," said Hermione feeling helpless.

"Do not forget that you are my husband," said Riddle.

"Well not anymore! I don't even remember why I married you in the first place."

"It was a mutual agreement."

"I doubt it. There was no way I would have agreed to marry you," Harry replied fiercely.

Riddle tried to remain calm. "I swear on my magic that you were willing and not coerced in any way."

"I don't believe you!"

"I wouldn't doubt it if you were spelled, Harry. Seems like something he would do." Ron declared. He had never understood why Harry married the scaly snake-face.

Riddle sneered as he twisted his neck to face Ron and spat. "Kindly stay out of matters that are not your concern, Mr. Weasley!"

"Of course this is my concern!"

"Of course this is his concern!" Harry and Ron answered at the same time.

"He is my best mate," Harry continued vehemently as he jumped onto his feet. He was sick and tired of Voldemort deriding his friends. Ron stood up beside Harry, ready to support him.

"And I am your soul-mate!" Riddle snapped back, also getting onto his feet.

"No, you are not for the last and final time! I don't want to have anything to do with you, Voldemort!"

Once again a silence descended. The two parties starred across the space that separated them, each upset for a different reason. The tension in the room was insurmountable, and for awhile there was only the sound of heavy breathing.

Riddle seethed, his fists were clenched tight and upon his face was a look of wholesome rage. The red-eyed wizard was at a loss as to what to do. Before the war ended he always had minions to torture and take his frustration on, but ever since the matrimony, Harry had forbidden him from casting Unforgivables or any dark curses at all! Damn him! Why he ought to show Harry who is boss. He ought to teach those Gryffindor a lesso, all of them. Why...he ought to kick the two 'guests' out of his manor and fuck Harry so hard that he's bound to remember.

This is the exact reason why he had become dark and refused all kindness in the first place. He knew it would turn out like this sooner or later. He hated being human, and having human emotions. He hated being angry and not having the heart to torment the one whom displeased him. He hated being hurt and not being able to hurt back.

Harry called him Tom nowadays, and with affection. The only time Harry called him Voldemort was when the Gryffindor was deliberately trying to irritate him, but truly meant no harm. Just now, hearing those words and that name, _Voldemort, _spill out of Harry's mouth with such malice and unadulterated hate...

Tom Riddle hated this feeling of anguish and wished it would go away.

"Stop it all of you," Hermione finally cut in, seeing things get out of hand. It was a stupid mistake to have asked Harry about Voldemort. But what's done is done and she would try to control her own emotions and words from now on. "Don't you think we have more pressing matters? Harry's memory for example; what caused it and how do we fix it?" She continued logically.

"Yes, that would be wise," said Riddle whose face was calm, masking most of his emotions. It really was the best thing to do; the sooner Harry recoveries his memories, the sooner he could make him grovel and pay. If things weren't so dire, Riddle would have smirked at the idea of Harry on his knees.

The wizard took another deep breath, forcing his body to relax before sitting down.

"All right then. Come on, Harry. Just sit down," Hermione urged and tugged Harry's hand, bringing him down on the couch. "You too, Ron," she gestured and then whispered to Harry to calm down.

When everyone was seated, Hermione looked around and continued.

"Harry, how old do you think you are?"

"Seventeen..." said Harry abruptly, still fuelled from the confrontation. "How old am I supposed to be? How old are you guys?"

Ron and Riddle's eyes widened.

Hermione shook her head. "Oh boy...well, you're very nearly 30, Harry!

"30!"

"Yes. You still _look_ the same – like your 30 year old self I mean," said Hermione feeling suddenly exhausted.

"I can attest to that, Mrs. Weasley. Harry has not changed at all. For he still bares my....markings," said Riddle smugly. "And they are very delectable markings indeed."

"Dirty old man," Harry muttered after understanding Riddle's meaning.

That is it! Tom Riddle mused to himself. This day is turning out to be utterly abysmal. He regretted ever accepting Harry's invite to join.

"What? It is only the truth," said Riddle and grinned wickedly. "Besides, you are no less deviant than I am."

Ron and Hermione looked at Harry with ambiguous expression, causing the Gryffindor to swallow uncomfortably and look away.

"I am not _deviant!" _ Harry cried undignified, feeling like he must have blushed a hundred times in the past hour. It was one thing for Voldemort to harass him when they were alone; doing it in front of Ron and Hermione was unbearably embarrassing. Not to mention the very thought of Voldemort's sexual _mark_ was mortifying.

Riddle rolled his eyes. He started to rub his chin and began to laugh at the expression Harry held.

Suddenly, the door to the guest room swung open and Bellatrix entered. "My lord, forgive me for interrupting. Malfoy and Snape are outside, they wishes to see Mr. Potter."

"Fine, let them in," said Riddle. "Looks like we have some sort of Hogwarts reunion today."

"Yes, my lord." Bellatrix turned to leave, but not before giving Ron and Hermione, especially Hermione, a loathing look.

"It so annoying that there are still people who believe in blood purity," Hermione grunted with discontent. "For heaven's sake, it is the 21st century."

"I don't ever want to have anything to do with those two whatever century we're in. I am Gryffindor, and they are Slytherin," said Harry, referring to Riddle's comment about 'Hogwarts reunion'. What kind of reunion would this be if it only had Gryffindors and Slytherins? Not to mention the biggest rivalry group within Gryffindor and Slytherin; the two 'Princes' versus the Golden Trio?

Tom Riddle chuckled half-heartily.

TBC...

Aw, poor Tom.

Woot...I am on a roll. *Ouch* think I hit a tree.....

I have 1 paragraph of the next chapter written....long ways to go to get to 3000 words.

Hugs all around! Tom and Harry have agreed to play 'monkey in the middle' with all reviewers –"wooo scandalous!" Who knows where that quote is from?


End file.
